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by TheWolfQueen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfQueen/pseuds/TheWolfQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The idea for this oneshot - my first fanfiction by the way - came from two songtext lines, on one hand from Green Day's 'Viva La Gloria' "There is no place like home when you got no place to go" and on the other hand out of ASP's 'The Little Big Man' the line "They say that home is where there's someone waiting, waiting for you" - I just wanted to mention that^^<br/>I'd be glad if you tell me what you think about this - and about grammatical mistakes I might have made (I'm from Germany).<br/>Hope, you enjoy it :)</p>
<p>---Just imported from FF.net :)---</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this oneshot - my first fanfiction by the way - came from two songtext lines, on one hand from Green Day's 'Viva La Gloria' "There is no place like home when you got no place to go" and on the other hand out of ASP's 'The Little Big Man' the line "They say that home is where there's someone waiting, waiting for you" - I just wanted to mention that^^  
> I'd be glad if you tell me what you think about this - and about grammatical mistakes I might have made (I'm from Germany).  
> Hope, you enjoy it :)
> 
> \---Just imported from FF.net :)---

"Come on, Sherlock, let's go." John stepped next to his friend. They were standing in front of an old house where Sherlock had just solved a case. It had taken him only a couple of minutes to figure out what had happened. Lestrade was happy - but he himself was kind of depressed. From his point of view the short time it had taken him was no sign of his genius but proofed once more the stupidity of Scotland Yard. They had been forced to call him for something this simple because they were too dumb to solve it on their own. 

"Hey, Sherlock, let's go home," John repeated, and Sherlock nodded, still wondering how long it would take Lestrade to learn solving this kind of cases on his own. 

They walked in silence. Once or twice the doctor tried to start a conversation, but Sherlock didn't answer. 

His thoughts circled around one word. _Home._ For the first time in his whole life he understood the meaning of this word. Their flat had become a home for him. A home, not just a flat.

He never had such a place, never had something like a home. Not during his childhood and youth when he lived with his parents and Mycroft in a little house. In those times he used to be out as long and as often as possible. He had spent hours sitting in a park or on a bench in the streets watching the people pass by. He'd started to play some kind of game with them. He'd started to observe and to analyze them. That had always been a bit of fun.

Later the places he lived had always been just some rooms where he could eat and sleep - if he did this at all. They had never been homes to him. And he'd been lonely in those times. He had started using cocaine. It had been his only friend, if you can call a drug a friend.

The two men went up the stairs to 221b and when John closed the door behind them and started making tea, Sherlock finally realized that it was not the messy flat itself that made him feel at home, it was John who made the flat a home. 

Sherlock turned around. He could see him in the kitchen where he stood near the table waiting for the water to boil. And without really knowing what he was doing Sherlock went over to him and kissed him. The only thing that surprised him more than his own action was John, who just put his arms around the detective's neck and kissed him back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewrite of the same scene, just from John's point of view :)

"Come on, Sherlock, let's go." John stepped next to the only consulting detective in the world. His friend didn't react so the doctor just stood watching him for a couple of moments. 

The stormcoloured eyes stared into nothingness. Probably he was deep in his thoughts, John suspected that he was annoyed about Lestrade ( and the police in general ) because they had to call him for what seemed like an easy case to him. John understood his point - even he had been able to figure out more than the DI. But maybe you had to learn this if you were living in one flat with the famous Sherlock Holmes.

The tall man's dark hair was curly as always and the ex-soldier found himself wondering how it would feel between his fingers. 

He'd gotten used to that kind of thoughts during the last months. Even if he - when asked - always claimed not to think about his flatmate like this he'd stopped lying to himself. Since the day Sherlock has lost his bed sheet in the Buckingham Palace he saw his friend in an different light.

Or maybe just from a different angle... 

He definitely didn't want to think about that now.

"Hey, Sherlock, let's go home:" He repeated, finally reaching into the other man's thoughts. Sherlock nodded absently and they started their way back to 221b. 

"Have you heard news about Irene Adler lately?" John asked, curious if his friend knew anything about the woman that was new to him. But his friend didn't answer. That was something he'd gotten used to. Sherlock didn't always answer. He might not even always hear you.

The doctor didn't ask again, it was useless. He knew the dreamy look in the detective's eyes. Sherlock was completely unaware of the world surrounding him. John could do anything without his flatmate noticing it. 

Okay, maybe he would notice if he kissed him, but he definitely would not do this. Their friendship was more worth than anything else and he would rather die than risk it. And a kiss would be a risk, he was pretty sure that Sherlock wouldn't be amused if he'd know his thoughts. 

He looked at the tall, elegant figure next to him, so focused on the man in the coat that he was close to running against a streetlamp. Grinning to himself he was for once glad Sherlock didn't notice anything at all. 

"By the way, is there still that head in the fridge?" He made another useless attempt to talk to his friend. That was something else he'd gotten kind of used to. The body parts in the fridge. Heads, fingers, the detective tended to place all kinds of flesh in there for reasons John didn't understood. He smiled, knowing that he'd miss something if they weren't there.

They entered 221b and he closed the door. 

Sherlock just stood in the middle of their living room, still wearing shoes and coat, doing nothing.

With a sigh John went over to the kitchen and decided to make tea. Being just there he also looked in the fridge. Yes, that head was still there. He wondered what Sherlock wanted with that thing - surely some kind of experiment - while he waited for the water to boil. 

Suddenly his friend entered the kitchen without saying a word. He headed directly for John who was curious what the other one wanted.

But he hadn't expected this.

He kissed him. Obviously John had been wrong when he thought his friend would probably kill him for kissing him. 

But he wouldn't complain - of course not. With a smile he put his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed him back.


End file.
